


Fear shall not live where Hope blooms

by shadow_Mage



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Acceptance, Angst, Family Fluff, Forgiveness, Gen, Ostentatious title with short summary, Post DMC 5, Redemption, Vergil can't say "I love you"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 06:30:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20541650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_Mage/pseuds/shadow_Mage
Summary: Dante and Vergil come home after their stint in Hell.





	Fear shall not live where Hope blooms

Coming home was bittersweet. The manor house that once stood regal and defiant against time, demons, and twin boys finally succumbed. Its weight slowly broke the final supports to crush the second story into the first. No longer bolstered by magic nor secrets, the worn wood and stucco was broken and splintered exposing parts of the interior to the elements like a beached whale. Vergil was not sure what he expected to see upon their return but this sad imagery only made his heart feel heavier.

Dante felt the melancholy that suffused his brother and nudged him gently with an elbow. He cocked his head to the side motioning him to follow. “We shouldn’t linger, to linger means to remember, perhaps we’re not ready,” he thought in the quiet stillness of their shared consciousness. Vergil merely nodded in return. They were both tired and worn thin from travel between the realms. They traveled a long and circuitous route out of hell once the Qliphoth and matters of his new kingdom had been settled. Vergil, of course, was a king in Hell and many demons bowed their heads before him rather than lose their head in death. Dante as their prince, because of a strange quirk of the Qliphoth, suggested to those demons that now followed his brother, that they should clear out those unwilling to face the new pair of demonic royalty in battle. It was a simple ruse that let their king slip away into the human realm unfettered. For now, Hell could wait. The twins just wanted to come home.

The gnarled ropes of dead roots twisted thru the rubble that littered the landscape. As they walked, they discovered evidence of time passing since their departure. New plants and spring like vines gathered in pockets of demon ash defiant in their bid to reclaim this place for the living. Time had clearly passed. How much was still to be determined but the ground upon which the manor once stood had fallen back to some state of stability, no longer pushed and cracked from its foundation by roots seeking more blood, seeking more power. Again, flickers of distress and pain lifted to the younger twin from his brother. 

Dante had accepted this reality, this broken and pained memory of their shared past. It helped shape him, but Vergil still had a long road to travel. He hid from this reality. He hid from the loss of their mother and father. He chose to shun the memory and forge ahead thinking it was weakness that brought them here to this point in their lives. Now, perhaps he would see things differently. Now his humanity had a voice once more. Part of Dante didn’t know how to help his brother. He had tried for so long and failed, perhaps he couldn’t shoulder this burden for him, perhaps he needed to let his brother feel it for himself.

Truthfully, he realized he was not so different from Vergil in his single mindedness toward a goal. Their goals may have differed but each in their own way reached out into the void of their unknown futures. They had each chosen a path that somehow lead back to each other and finally had led them back home. Distantly, Dante thought about when he lost hope. Regrettably he couldn’t pinpoint the moment, perhaps he never would see a singular moment as his descent, but it was when they battled atop the Qliphoth that Dante realized he too made mistakes. He too was lost, every bit as much as the brother he faced. When Nero separated them at the very moment he did, he realized he truly intended to kill Vergil. To stop him at all costs. He would have killed his own brother. His blood. His family. He had excepted he would follow him to that end. He had finally given up on the brother he once swore never to give up on. He had become the demon Dante swore to destroy. No longer was he the brother that he had grown up with. No longer was he the lost soul that could be redeemed. No, Vergil in that moment, was nothing more than a demon destined to fall at his hand like so many others. Dante shuddered in his thoughts. He was grateful it never came to that. Thank God? Yes, thank God for Nero. The boy, his nephew, reminded him when he needed it the most of his real reason to keep going all these years. Family.

Blue eyes lifted to meet silvery blue ones as Vergil gripped his brother’s shoulder. He felt the waver in Dante’s control of emotion and was unsure how to help. Initiating touch seemed to draw his brother back into the here and now. “I’m here for you brother.”

Dante smiled softly and snorted. “Aren’t I supposed to be the one that says that to you?”

“Perhaps, but this place… this place holds many memories. Memories that are filled with pain and sadness. Perhaps we are not ready, even together.”

“Yeah.” They continued in silence to search the grounds shifting thru rubble neither really knowing what they searched for but perhaps that was the point. They were just here to say their goodbyes each in their own way, and to just… feel the loss; to understand neither of them was alone anymore. It was something neither twin ever believed they would get the chance to do. Neither expected to come home together after that night. In no time, Dante found himself squatted over a broken heavy gilt frame and he snorted loudly with a ‘huh’ brushing away mud and debris. His voice dipped softly, thoughtfully, with a reverence that seemed fitting in the stillness. “I remember having to pose for this damn thing. I hated it.”

“Hmm… it showed. Although my expression is not much better.” Vergil stepped quietly behind him gazing at the familiar family portrait. Sparda looked older than Vergil remembered, and mother was without her natural soft smile. Then again none of them truly smiled. They had to pose for much too long. A smile would have been uncomfortable after a time. A pleasant memory that ended with chocolate chip cookies. Vergil sighed quietly.

Dante snickered before he gently pried the painting from its premature grave. “Pops insisted we behave and stand quietly, remember? Still pissed that he was the only one that got to sit, though. We stood for hours while the guy sketched.”

Vergil snorted at this. A warm and unfamiliar sensation bubbled in his chest as a fleeting memory lifted. “If I recall correctly, father originally wanted to stand but mother said he would be too tall.”

“Oh yeah, then we fought over where to stand.”

“Hnn,” Vergil took one edge of the painting as Dante stood. Surprisingly the damage was minimal. The frame could be replaced, and he knew someone who specialized in restoration, an acquaintance made over his years of researching ancient archives. He hummed softly and Dante tilted his head toward him.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“I believe I can have this restored. It is relatively undamaged.”

“Yeah, doesn’t that seem odd to you? I mean it’s been over thirty years?”

“Yes, but the manor also remained relatively intact, even now there are sections of the home that could be…” Vergil’s gaze drifted over the devastation, but it was the bones of the house jutting up haphazardly that evoked an image that made him shudder.

“Verge?”

“I’m…I’m alright. Perhaps the manor could be rebuilt but we would need to start sooner rather than later. Even now some sections remain untouched.”

Dante chuckled breaking the solemn silence that had surrounded them. “With what money? Have you seen my place? I don’t know what you’ve been doing but I’m not exactly rolling in cash.”

Vergil frowned as his brother released his grip on his half of the portrait and squeezed him around the shoulders. “I’m aware.” He growled softly rolling his shoulder while giving Dante an elbow to his side. Dante took the hint and moved away but he still chuckled.

He stretched his arms over his head and gave a yawn. The weariness was settling in. He wondered if Nero was okay and of course the girls. He clasped one wrist behind his head and stared over toward the house, thinking about what Vergil said. Maybe. His gaze ventured further from the manor as he dropped his hands back to his side. “Hey, Verge! Check it out mom’s rose garden is pretty much intact and look, the small garden she made for us is still here too.” A sudden gleeful tone infused his brother’s voice and the elder twin looked up from his prolonged staring at the portrait. He looked to where his brother was heading and felt his lips pull at the corners. He did remember the garden their mother had planted just for them. It was filled with assorted bushes and flowers that attracted all manner of life as well as a few small hidden benches that allowed Vergil a place to read quietly.

With a quick flick of his wrist a blue rune crackled to life in front of him and the portrait disappeared. It was decided. He would have the piece restored. It was a happy memory worth keeping and he would cling to the same memories that Dante held to so dearly hoping they too would give him a map by which he could navigate the emotional storm he felt brewing. He took a deep breath and followed his brother. A few steps forward and he felt a pang of regret that stopped him in his tracks. Dante once followed him here into this very garden many times. In fact, he once swore that his little brother would follow him just to annoy him when all he wanted was a break from him. Regardless of why he went to the garden, Dante would inevitably appear looking for him, looking for his brother. He remembered this garden with deceptive clarity and it surprised him. He hadn’t thought about this place in years. He thought these memories had long been purged as the weakness he once believed them to be. Back then, he wanted nothing more than to be alone and away from his brother’s endless chatter and questions. He dreamed of being an only child. But now, as he watched Dante grin and listened to him chuckle reciting loudly every memory of when had found Vergil in this part of the garden, he realized that… this… this was what he had been looking for all along.

It was never about power just for the sake of power. That was foolishness. He wanted to become more powerful so that he would have the power to protect those that he loved. This was something he forgot over the many long years, something corrupted and twisted by the desires and expectations of others. He had been a child and children were not meant to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders… like his son. He flinched remembering what he had done to his own son. Remembering how his son had saved them both. His own flesh and blood. His family he never knew because he abandoned his humanity.

Dante stiffened and rushed back to Vergil who was deathly still but appeared to be hyperventilating as he let tears roll down his cheeks for the first time in a decade? Two? Even longer? He felt the weight of his fear of that night, of many nights, and then the regret of many choices to avoid that fear wash over him. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this… weak… but as his brother embraced him, he continued to let the emotion wash over him. The tears were the last floodgate between him and a sense of peace he had never experienced before. His tears slowed melting into something more than anguish but instead of joy. This… this was what he wanted. What he needed. To feel loved and protected to have his family whole once more. The words drifted dreamily thru his head as if he had said these very words to someone recently but who? He gripped his brother fiercely, tightly feeling his warmth, his presence among the rubble and dust of the choices he made. His brother was his family and his brother was… still here… in the garden… in his mother’s garden… in the place she made just for them. She may have been long gone but her presence was still here. Even as Vergil acknowledged this possibility, he felt his father’s gaze appraise him lovingly, no longer the shadow he chased but rather it was transformed to a ray of light he took warmth from. Perhaps the very light that gave life to the garden they currently stood crying in. He smiled into his brothers shoulder feeling his tears wane as they embraced.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” his brother repeated. “It’s gonna be okay, Verge. I’m here. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere. You’re my brother and I love you.” Vergil heard the catch in his brother’s voice, felt the shudder in his shoulders, the dampness against his neck, the weight of the emotion that filled the space between them and he didn’t mind. In this moment of raw awareness, he was neither demon nor human, but both. Each of his ‘halves’ needed one another not only to survive but to thrive and finally he understood and was grateful. He had a long way to understand to the degree his brother did, and only time would tell if others would forgive him as his brother had but for the here and now, Vergil found his peace. Dante never thought Vergil weak, or inferior. He only ever looked up to him and despite the years, the decisions, the changes in their circumstances, Dante only wanted his family… just like he did.

Vergil let a soft chuckle lift from his chest and he gently pushed his brother away staring into his red rimmed eyes. He expected he looked the same. “Of course, you’re not going anywhere, little brother. You never would leave me alone. You are a constant thorn in my side.” Dante blinked confused a moment as his brother lifted a gloved handle to cradle his cheek. “And I must really thank you for that, for it is that thorn that keeps me grounded.” His voice rasped from the uncertainty of saying something so vulnerable, but Dante quickly sniffed before he grinned hearing the emotion thru the words. Vergil immediately dropped his hand and rolled his eyes seeing the playful undaunted sparkle return to his brother’s eyes. He pushed passed his brother to look at the garden, to remember his fondest of memories in this space, seeing it not as it is but how it was. Their moment of unabashed openness was about to be squashed by some foolish quip from his brother and he welcomed it. He wiped his own cheek free of tears long overdue as he turned his back away from Dante. No need to let his brother see any more emotion spill from him. He heard Dante give an uncharacteristically boyish giggle.

“You do like having me as a brother!”

“At times,” he snorted in answer. He grinned to himself but was characteristically blank by the time his brother walked around to face him. 

“I knew it!”

“Please, do not get an inflated sense of yourself. I find you… tolerable, at best.”

Dante suddenly grinned like a crazed baboon at those words. “Say it again. Say it again. You love me!” Dante danced around him and the image of him being eight again and just as foolish filled Vergil’s mind. 

A short memory drifted to him once more. A memory from a time when the worst that happened to either boy was an argument over who got the last pancake and Eva was forced to step in splitting the contentious piece of flour and water with a knife. Vergil had pouted running to the garden wishing he were an only child and voicing his displeasure quite loudly. It was Dante who found him in the garden giving him his half of the pancake tearily. “I don’t want it if it means you won’t be my brother anymore. So here Verge…” Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes again.

Vergil closed his eyes a moment to regain his composure. He opened them to find his brother lingered way too close and bounced like he has hopped up on sugar. He was waiting. Vergil grinned at him finally giving him the answer he sought. “I. Find. You. Tolerable,” he enunciated each word with a glare. Dante whooped spinning around and throwing his hands up. Vergil growled but it quickly became a chuckle.

“You love me! Woohoo!”

“You are an imbecile.”

“Yep, but I’m your imbecile.” He snatched his brother into a one arm hugged and tousled his hair. Vergil growled pulling from him sharply. His anger flared briefly.

“Dante! Not the hair!”

“Ahh, still a pretty boy, I see.”

“Asshole.” The two glared at each other for a long time but finally they both relaxed then laughed. They laughed like they did when they were children and for no reason and every reason at once. The air around them was no longer heavy or filled with fear and regret. They both filled their lungs with the lovely lingering smell of roses, jasmine and honeysuckle that lifted in the breeze and a soft smile lingered to their lips. In the bleak barren chaos that surrounded them this garden was a welcome spot of color and life. Where the majority of the Qliphoth roots had ravaged the yard and manor lifting and twisting the ground, here the ground was intact and vibrant with life. The flowers grew rampant around them unaware that they should not.

“Kind of weird that out of everything left here, that the garden seems barely touched.” Dante slipped an arm around his brother and pointed as he spoke. He noted gleefully, but silently, that Vergil did not pull from his touch. “I mean, I am not complaining. This is stunning. The fact that anything survived," he paused and tilted his head slightly. "Nah, these plants didn't just survive these plants are thriving. I mean, really Verge, this is awesome but it’s also… surprising.”

A few moments passed as they looked around the garden together. Dante brushed a free hand over one of the flowered bushes. Neither separated from their casual embrace as they moved as one over the graveled path. The sun peeked brightly thru the quickly dispersing grey clouds causing a faint surge of life in the form of small fluttering butterflies that now danced across the many flowers. “Perhaps,” his voice answered with growing confidence as he squeezed his brother's waist. “… but I welcome such surprises. They give me… hope.”

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing a completely different piece but this is what evolved instead. I hope you enjoy it and remember... It can't rain all the time...  
\-- Original post Unbetaed as is ordained by the muses of creativity


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